


This and My Heart and All the Bees

by glitteringvoid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Journalism, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Misunderstandings, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26679412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteringvoid/pseuds/glitteringvoid
Summary: Balls are dull, tedious affairs. Even those thrown in the honour of Harry Potter. Mina should have stayed home, she really should have. Instead she stands here, watching Potter smile at the guests and wondering idly where Malfoy is, why he isn't here.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 97





	This and My Heart and All the Bees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CigaleDesNeiges](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CigaleDesNeiges/gifts).



> This fic is for Cigale, because it's her birthday and she is amazing. 
> 
> I am, as ever, completely inept in finding something fitting to say here. Let's start with the fic though, because it's somewhat more complicated than I wanted. 
> 
> This is not the fic I meant to write for you, not at all. This is a fic I wrote as something short and fun because I couldn't devote enough time and attention to the fic I originally wanted to write for you. I will write it though, and you will receive it dreadfully late. I hope this my humble offering makes up for the wait. 
> 
> I don't think I can adequately express how much I value your opinion, on my writing or plans or issues. I like discussing, well, pretty much anything with you, even though we never seem to reach anything conclusive, that great fabled solution to all the things that are wrong with the world. 
> 
> I'll stop talking now, before I get soppy or angry, but I hope you know how grateful I am to know you. So, this fic is for you, with as little angst as I could manage. I hope you like it!
> 
> It's all I have to bring to-day,  
> This, and my heart beside,  
> This, and my heart, and all the fields,  
> And all the meadows wide.  
> Be sure you count, should I forget, --  
> Someone the sum could tell, --  
> This, and my heart, and all the bees  
> Which in the clover dwell.  
> \- Emily Dickinson

There are few things as important and overrepresented as official ministry balls. Mina is well aware of that fact, one of the basic truths of journalism, but it does nothing to make her evening any more pleasant. If she had it her way, she wouldn’t be here at all, pressed into uncomfortably high heels you can’t see under the stiff robes, her hair pulled into a tight braid because that is how you wear it when you want to appear professional. Jaime insisted that that is exactly what Mina wants, to be taken seriously and make a good impression, and so this is what she has to wear. Her armour, Jaime had said, and smiled at her in an effort to alleviate her discomfort. It did help, a bit, but Jaime here would be even better. 

Her armour, Mina reminds herself now, and she stands up straighter. True, she would much rather spend the evening with her girlfriend, cuddle up to Jaime on the couch and watch whatever weird Muggle series she is currently obsessed with, but there are sacrifices to be made for her career. It was either this or miss Jaime's birthday next week to follow the minister on his campaign, which is not something Mina wants to even contemplate. Newmont was very clear, though; she has to report on either the obnoxious ball thrown in honour of Harry Potter, or the weeks long campaign. Or, well, Mina could have quit, too, she supposes, but she really does want to be a journalist. 

Jaime understands that, sometimes even better than Mina does, and she knows what that means for the solidity of her schedule. She is used to dates cancelled last minute because there is a story Mina needs to cover, used to long nights alone because Mina is still at the office, working on the fifth edit Newmont demanded. Jaime also hates it, though she is less vocal about it than Mina is. Mina _hates_ this job, and if she didn’t want to be a big name in the journalism world, she would have quit long ago. 

That’s just the way it is, though, she supposes. You have dreams for your work and your private life, and mostly, what you have to do to pursue these dreams doesn’t mix well. You can only strive for a healthy balance, but the depressing truth is that it’s basically impossible to accomplish. Still, she loves Jaime, and she doesn't want their relationship to break over a few bad weeks of work and a general bleak outlook on life. They should go on holiday, soon, somewhere warm and sunny. Jaime would like that, and for her, Mina would even bear with the burning sun and inconsiderate tourists. 

Yes, they should go on holiday. 

After Mina writes that report on Harry Potter’s 28th birthday. Right. Mina smothers a deep sigh into her drink. 

The alcohol isn’t great; she is supposed to stay focused, after all, but it’s the only way she sees any chance of actually making it through the ball. A _ball_! Who wants to celebrate their birthday with a ball? If you ask Mina, that says a whole lot of unpleasant things about Potter. It also says that anyone who can should stay far away and be grateful they get to spend their day (because it does take an entire day, if you consider preparation and reaffirming that, no, you do not want to get fired so, yes, you do have to go to the ball) however they want, in clothes they got to choose for themselves and not based on what the people deciding their future would think. 

Mina isn’t one of these people. As she spent the last hour lamenting, standing in her corner, and watching the room for anything even vaguely interesting. Predictably, there is nothing. It’s a boring collection of boring people, talking about boring topics, while politely eating the boring food. Mina sighs again. 

She knew this would happen. She told Jaime this is exactly how it was going to be, starting from the appetisers and ending on the no doubt slimy speeches that will come later, to honour Potter and thank him for his great heroism. Jaime had nodded and agreed and told her to try the green dress next. But the green dress was hideous, and Mina was right, which counts as a win in this desperate situation. 

Okay, time to do her job. 

The room is an embodiment of elegance and splendour, spacious with high ceilings, laughter gently echoing and expensive dresses (no not expensive, scratch that, find a synonym for elegant here; fancy perhaps, though that is very much the dirty peasant watching with stars in their eyes as the aristocratic nobles dance in their riches and frivolities) glittering in the light. The centre of it all is, as it should be, none other than _Harry Potter_ , who is celebrating his birthday on this—actually, Potter doesn't look like he is celebrating at all. 

Potter looks uncomfortable, sweaty, like he would rather be anywhere else. Well, this is unexpected. Not the ‘hoping for the earth to show mercy and open up already’ bit—Mina understands that all too well, and should Potter in his infamous luck be the first person to be swallowed up by the earth, Mina would definitely take her chance of escape to follow him. It would make a far better story as well. 

No, what is so surprising is that Potter _doesn’t want to be here_. 

He smiles, sure, and he shakes all the right hands, and he is as obnoxiously charming, as Mina knew he would be. Potter isn’t stupid, he does know how the game works. So, he laughs, and he dances, and hates every second of it. Odd, this is _his_ birthday they are celebrating, after all; heroes usually like that. But then, there was never anything usual about Potter, was there? 

Also, and more importantly, is Mina seriously the only one who notices how uncomfortable their guest of honour is? She can’t be! Potter isn’t subtle at all—someone is bound to notice! 

For one, he keeps glancing away, eyes flitting over the room, and his entire being slumping in disappointment for a brief moment before he pulls himself up again, fake smile back in full force and his eyes glassy. Mina supposes that could be blamed on nerves, if you were _very stupid_ and looking for an easy explanation. For anyone who has actually seen Potter before, just even in pictures, it should be obvious he isn’t really here. It’s the eyes, always the eyes, and Potter’s might as well be closed for all the presence they have. 

The other thing is how much he _fidgets_. It’s driving her crazy, watching him shift and prance and ruffle his hair—Potter doesn’t stand still for a second! She’ll admit that one is probably due to nerves and could also very easily be misunderstood as a personal quirk, the kind people find either charming or makes them contemplate murder. Potter being Potter, Mina would bet her newly-decided-on holiday on people thinking it charming. If _she_ were to behave like that, she would have been thrown out already. Not that she is bitter or anything, just an observation. 

Her article is quickly derailing into a mystery piece, and she can see the headline already: Harry Potter hiding dark secrets? That would be the only thing Newmont could come up with to explain his behaviour, she’s sure, plus it’s guaranteed to sell well. And that is all that really counts in her current job, the sales. Did she mention she hates it? 

This, though, this might be her ticket out. Mina doesn't have the best experience with what she has perceived as an escape route before—her current job was meant to be one, too, and then it turned into this dead end. But Harry Potter? Not to fall into clichés and hero worship, but it seems anything the man so much as brushes past turns out alright. Mina is cautiously optimistic. 

And even if it turns out Potter is just sick, it would be much more interesting to read than the spectacle she is watching right now. Really, no one wants to read about that, Mina needs to believe that lest she loses all faith in humanity. No one would want to read Potter puking out his guts either, though, and the man really does deserve some privacy. Good thing Mina could write about dull balls in her sleep and doesn’t need to actually pay attention to gather the necessary praise and scandal. 

So, Potter, Mina feels almost giddy with excitement. She is certain there is a story here, and not just because, as long as Potter is involved, even grocery shopping can be sold as a story. There is, of course, also Malfoy, their very public and tumultuous relationship, and the fact that Malfoy is suspiciously absent. 

Really, Mina should have put it together sooner. Jaime is a big fan of gossip and conspiracy theories—sometimes Mina wonders how, out of the two of them, it’s she who dreams of being a journalist and not Jaime. She certainly would be better suited to it in situations such as this. Jaime would have a list of her top five theories now, rated once by how likely, and then by how entertaining they are. She would also know exactly how worrisome Malfoy’s absence is and if there was anything… unusual going on leading up to today. 

It’s not unheard of, unfortunately. Couples braving the scrutiny of the public rarely make it for long—constantly exposed to comments and people begrudging them their apparent happiness. Potter, especially, is seen as something of a public good, and Mina remembers the vicious backlash they miraculously survived after announcing their relationship. Malfoy was recipient of countless hateful letters, accusations, and attacks. He probably still is, though it’s not talked about anymore and likely has lessened somewhat in quantity. 

People felt Malfoy was stealing something from them, taking Potter for himself, and tainting him. Ridiculous, as anyone with half a brain could see how much happier Malfoy made Potter, but there you go. People aren’t exactly reasonable in their desires, and as it stands, the entire country is at least a little in love with Potter, which made Malfoy the foe to beat. The Death-Eater past and pure-bloodedness didn’t help, either. 

Mina doesn’t know how they did it, how they salvaged their relationship through these tumultuous months, how they stayed here. She wouldn’t have. She hates admitting it, but Mina doesn’t think she could have done it. Jaime probably could have. She might not look it, but that woman is a force to be reckoned with, and once she digs her teeth into something, she doesn’t stop until she gets it. Yeah, Jaime could have done it, and she would have looked magnificent forcing a whole nation to its knees before her. Mina, though, she just doesn’t know. It’s far more likely that she would have packed her backs, shoved a Portkey into Jaime's hands, and gotten them far, far away. There would have been hell to pay, they would have fought until they screamed themselves hoarse, but Mina likes to think they would have figured it out. She hopes so. 

Anyway, she always admired that, how Potter and Malfoy handled things. A united front; their statements fitting perfectly, and their smiles charming, proving their love again and again until even the last hateful doubter was smothered under it. Those who opened their mouths to speak up, that is. As she said, Mina is sure they still have to deal with disapproval. 

Was it finally too much? Is that why Malfoy isn’t here? Did they break up? 

Mina hopes they didn’t. True, Malfoy and Potter aren’t married, never gave any indication of wanting to either, according to Jaime, but the two belong much more firmly together in Mina’s mind than some of the officially married couples who only see each other on events such as this. 

So, where is Malfoy? And why does Potter look like he is about to throw himself out of the nearest window to escape? 

“Really, Pansy, I don’t see how this is necessary!” That voice! Mina _knows_ that voice! 

She tries in vain not to swivel around like a bloodhound who picked up a scent. At least the cumbersome dress makes the movement seem elegant instead of frantic, twirling quite nicely around her legs. Mina doesn’t pay it too much attention, all her attention is snapped and focused on Draco Malfoy. Speak of the devil. 

Malfoy looks—she doesn’t know, really. He looks well, clothes immaculate and appropriate, sure to be featured as one of the best outfits in all the dull evaluations of the celebration, and his hair is that kind of artfully ruffled that means someone spent hours perfecting it. Yes, Malfoy looks well, exactly as is expected of him. 

And yet… there is something off about Malfoy, about the way he clings to his companion’s arm (Parkinson? Is that Pansy Parkinson? Why didn’t she bring Jaime? This would all be much easier and much more fun if she were here.), and how he scans the room, seeking and haunted and flitting over person after person, never settling and always forging on—Malfoy freezes, still as a statue. Mina doesn’t have to turn around to know who he saw. 

Potter. 

Well, this is bound to get interesting. 

“There he is,” Pansy-probably-Parkinson says, her voice shrill with fake cheer, as she begins to drag Malfoy towards Potter. The whole thing looks rather uncomfortable; Malfoy more dead weight than person, and Parkinson the kind of determined that promises spectacular things, all the same in victory or defeat. 

Potter looks up from his conversation again—already pretty one-sided, Mina suspects he only kept the old man around so no one else would force him into more demanding talk—to do his now customary sweep of the room, and his eyes land on Malfoy. 

The whole world stills, the both of them just _staring_ at each other. Mina holds her breath. The tension is high-strung in the air, holding them all in suspension. 

Then Potter moves, cuts the ties holding them, and rudely shoves his glass into the hands of the old man, who is prattling on about the perfect hue of green for a quality English lawn. He strides towards Malfoy, face set into a grim mask that discourages even the most awe-struck of standing in his way for a chance to have him look at them. People are weird and desperate here, sure, but mostly not suicidal enough to try to stop him. 

Malfoy, who has miraculously regained control over his limbs but is kept from making use of this ability by Parkinson's vice like grip on him, doesn’t possess the same caution. 

“What is he doing here? Pansy, you promised me he wouldn’t be here!” His frantic whisper isn’t as quiet as he must think it is, and it echoes loudly in the room of covertly gawking people. 

“Imagine that, the surprise of meeting me at my own birthday party.” Potter’s tone is dry enough to make Mina's throat itch for something to drink, and Malfoy freezes again. 

He didn’t see Potter approach, too busy being turned away and scolding his friend to notice him. He wasn’t aware that Potter could hear him, either. 

Jaime is going to be so mad she missed this. Mina has a feeling it will develop into a _brilliant_ story. 

Malfoy recovers remarkably well, must be the Slytherin in him. They wouldn’t be caught with a hair out of place if the world was burning down, not by these unworthy of knowing they are, in fact, human and do have feelings. Whatever Malfoy is covering, it must have hit him deeply to provoke such a pleasant veil of blandness thrown over his face. 

“What are you doing here, Draco?” Potter asks, his voice much softer than before. Fascinating.

So, Malfoy doesn’t know how to act around Potter anymore, Potter is angry but also glad to see him here, and Parkinson looks proud enough to assume that she was the once tricking Malfoy into coming, which means he didn’t plan on doing so. The way it’s looking right now, Potter owes Malfoy an apology, and he is going to give it. This will be rather soppier than Mina expected. 

“Celebrating your birthday, I assume.” Malfoy tears his arm out of Parkinson's hold, sticks his nose into the air in the haughtiest plea to be punched in the face possible to humanity, and Potter’s face falls. 

Right, that moment is ruined. 

“Not sure you wish me health and happiness anymore?” Potter is going for joking, Mina is reasonably certain, but it falls flat and meek. 

“Not sure this is the right place. I seem to remember you wanting to celebrate differently, more intimate and actually focused on celebrating you and not looking good for the camera.” In their unfailingly bad timing, this is exactly the moment a camera flashes to take a picture of the two of them, proving Malfoy’s point. Beyond a—somewhat pained—smug smile, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “I guess I misjudged your feelings.” 

“Draco wait—” But Malfoy doesn’t wait, Potter reaches for empty air, and Mina is left with that extraordinarily cryptic sentence. It must have meant something to Potter, though, who looks gutted. 

It doesn’t make sense; Malfoy didn't even sound particularly accusing, more like he was stating an accepted truth. If anything, Malfoy’s words were meant to cut himself. She thinks they did, too—Malfoy’s step on the dance floor is stumbling and unsure, Parkinson taking on the leading role. Whatever it is Malfoy alluded to, it hurt him to do so. 

Potter stares at him, somewhat forlorn, not understanding what is going on, and Mina sees the vultures circling back in onto him, ready to descend again. 

Well, that just won’t do. She wants to know what happened between them, what Potter was going to say before Malfoy ran away. Plus, Jaime would never forgive her if she just stood by and watched them pine after each other. 

Mina takes a few decisive steps, walking past the people closing in on Potter, and gives him a shove onto the dance floor. She doesn’t know why she did it, or why she quickly ducks behind a portly woman to hide herself from Potter’s searching gaze, but it works well enough. The woman glares at her, and Mina can dedicate a few precious seconds to freaking out over becoming an active part in the story, as Potter’s eyes settle firmly on Malfoy again. All in all, a successful, if ill-planned, mission. Jaime will be pleased. 

Malfoy tries hard to seem impervious to the commotion, allowing himself to be led through the dance, and absently nodding along to what Parkinson is furiously whispering. Mina doesn't buy it for a second. 

Malfoy is well aware of everything that is going on, his posture rigid, and his shoulders so extremely squared that it must be painful. That means he is scared and tries to act like he is not, to make himself more imposing and intimidating. Potter isn’t impressed, not slowing down until he stands next to them. 

“May I cut in?” he asks, as if there really is any question about what Potter can and cannot do. The answer is simple of course, yes, he can, and Parkinson hastens to comply with his wish. Judging by the mischievous smirk, that was her plan all along. 

Malfoy, unaware of this or still naively thinking he can avoid talking to Potter, plays dumb. He passes Parkinson's hand to Potter, as if it’s her he wanted to dance with, and makes to use the ensuing confusion to slip away, out into the night, and far further away than these halls could ever offer. It’s a… simple plan, let’s say, but Mina approves. It’s dramatic, sure to make a good story with enough resemblance to Cinderella to spin this into a modern retelling. That would be fun to report about. 

Unfortunately for both Mina and Malfoy, Potter is faster. He grabs Malfoy around the waist before he can get far, lets Parkinson's hand fall in order to catch Malfoy’s, and pulls them both back into the dance he interrupted. He still looks grim, but grimly satisfied this time, and Malfoy looks like he can’t decide between protesting the caveman manners or melting into his arms, and Parkinson looks smug. 

“Running away from me again?” Mina gets the impression that Potter meant for that to be far smoother than it was in the end. The smile fits, sure, crooked and charming and clogged with that air of studied carelessness that, honestly, Mina wouldn’t have expected from Potter. Malfoy, yeah, probably learnt how to affect nonchalance before he learnt how to walk, but Potter? Mina didn’t think he was insecure enough about anything to have to try and hide it in such a manner. 

Anyway, he is dreadful at it, so perhaps he didn’t get much practice in the art of disguised self-deprecation. That is a much needed reaffirmation of her worldview, but it also means that Potter’s attempt to lift the mood falls flat. Malfoy looks at him, at the smile wavering around the edges, at the hesitation creeping into his steps. Malfoy looks, and he realises exactly what he sees, realises that he holds this moment in his hands and has full control over the tone of this conversation, all depending on his answer. Malfoy looks, and he judges. 

“Yes, I got the impression you didn’t want me anywhere near you.” The mood shatters. Whatever tentatively hopeful thing made Potter attempt a smile is crushed under the blunt disdain and the haughty stiffness that conceals oceans of feelings Mina stands no chance of deciphering. She curses Malfoy for being so much better at hiding than Potter is. 

She thought Potter would retreat, that he would shrink back and leave Malfoy to his anger. Then she remembers this is _Harry Potter_ , and that they would all be dead if he were the kind to bow down when snapped at. No, Potter doesn’t back away; Potter flares up as if Malfoy spit oil in his fire. 

“Damn it, Draco, why do you—” Potter catches himself, sighs loud and put-upon, and guides them into another turn. “Okay, look, I'm sorry, alright? Can we start this whole thing over? Do it properly this time?” 

The desperate plea of a man who stands to lose everything. Mina hates the connection her brain so helpfully provided, but she remembers the only other time she saw such raw despair in someone—the war. She saw it in people everywhere back then, when they made each other promise to be careful, when they asked in forced casualness if there were any news. 

She also, and that is the first link that popped into her mind, saw it at the Death-Eater trials. She wishes she didn’t, she really does, but she sees them standing there, haggard and dirty and spewing whatever excuses they think might save them from the Dementor's kiss. They were all entirely useless, guilt wrapped tight around them, a straggling confession. Potter feels guilty. Mina doesn’t know what this means or if it’s justified, but Potter feels guilty. 

“Oh, sorry, should I have stayed and waited around until you could answer?” Malfoy’s acidic words pull Mina back into the present, away from the haunting shadows and the desperate assurances of innocence, the pleas for mercy. 

Really, Potter doesn't look anything like them. He doesn't beg, and he doesn't plead, and whatever it is she saw in his eyes, that harrowing fear of losing… _something_ , it is gone now. 

It’s ironic, how much Mina starts to hope for Malfoy to say something mean and shock Potter out of that pit he seems to fall in. She doesn’t know what exactly would happen if Malfoy wasn’t here, if _Potter_ would be here then, or if all of these horribly disconcerting things Potter does are facets of his personality that they don’t usually get to see—either way, it doesn’t pay to get caught up in that. What matters is that Mina didn’t like what she saw in Potter there, neither the darkness nor the uncertainty. It made her uncomfortable, and she doesn't think Potter wanted anyone to see it. 

Her boss would be delighted if she told him even a fraction of these thoughts. A good reporter probably would—a side to their beloved hero the public doesn’t know, a truth they are entitled to. Perhaps disagreeing makes her a bad reporter. Mina doesn’t plan on writing a single word on it. If worst comes to worst, she will just leave out Potter entirely, maybe twist it to be commentary on how shockingly easy it is to remove Potter from the ball allegedly thrown in his honour. Actually, come to think of it—Potter interrupts her thoughts, and Mina decides against the idea. Newmont would never print it, anyway. 

“What—yes! Yes, that is generally how you do it. You ask a question, you wait for an answer. You don’t just start _running away_.” That is a fair point. Pretty much how questions work, unless you are just thinking aloud. Jaime does that, thinking out loud, and it took Mina quite some time to learn which questions are meant for her and which are just easier considered in sound. Malfoy doesn't seem like the kind to wonder aloud, though, and whatever happened between them, the proportions of offence and outcome are ludicrous. 

“Yes, well, thank you for educating me. Now if you’ll excuse me—” Malfoy makes another attempt at escape, which probably means Potter’s hit a nerve, and Malfoy is indeed running. He is also unsuccessful again, Potter’s grip tightening in new-found resolution. 

“I don’t think I will, actually.” Mina doesn't think so, either. Whatever they have been doing until now, Potter is done playing around. He’s stopped moving them around, which means they’re standing rather stiffly in the middle of the dance floor and forcing all the subtly spying couples to awkwardly dance around them. 

Not that they notice; Potter is staring intently at Malfoy, who looks too exhausted to even just hold himself up anymore. When did that happen? 

“What do you want me to say, Potter? What do you need to hear so you can leave me alone?” Mina is no expert, but she is pretty sure they are talking past each other. There is some huge misunderstanding here, something Potter wants to talk about, and Malfoy wants to avoid at all costs, and both of them have no time to listen to the other. 

“I don’t need you to say anything.” That might have come out harsher than Potter meant, going by Malfoy’s flinch and the grimace on Potter’s face. “No, I meant, I need you to listen. I want to answer the question.” 

Malfoy suddenly stands up straight again, jerking away from Potter. Whatever that ominous question is, Malfoy doesn't want it answered. 

“That’s kind, but you don’t have to. I heard your answer quite clearly, message received, loud and—” 

“Yes! Okay? I'm saying yes.” Malfoy falls silent. He didn’t expect that, staring at Potter with wide eyes, flabbergasted. 

Everyone is silent, in fact, not just Malfoy. What is the expression—you could hear a pin drop? That’s what this silence is, a quiet understanding settling in, the question echoing in everyone’s mind. 

Potter said yes. 

“If you still want to, that is. I want to, I’ll always want to.” And he is mumbling, looking sheepish, and suddenly aware of the rest of the world again. It destroys the romance of it a bit, insecurity wrestling its way back between the two, but perhaps this is good, perhaps Malfoy will use this as a chance to reach out. 

Malfoy doesn't. Malfoy watches Potter stumble through his words. Why doesn’t Malfoy say anything? 

Potter is still talking, Mina doesn't know what he could still be talking about, and frankly, she doesn’t think anyone is listening, least of all Potter himself. She only tunes back in for the important bit, when Potter drops to his knees, and the whole room collectively takes in a sharp breath. 

“Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?” 

It sounds like the ending of a long rambling speech that Potter probably prepared and then messed up in the actual moment, but Mina doesn't have any room to judge. She has been trying to propose to Jaime for months now, and she didn’t manage, not even a screwed-up one born out of frustration and fear of watching her walk away. And he does cut a rather dramatic figure, kneeling at Malfoy’s feet, and quite literally offering up all he is, giving it to Malfoy. 

It’s brave and foolish and desperate and it’s so very painfully clear how much he does really love Malfoy, even with most of his emotional speech missed. And Malfoy, the utter _moron_ , doesn’t say anything. 

Malfoy says nothing at all, gazing at Potter, who is holding up the ring like it might protect him from the rejection everyone is sure is coming any second now. How is Malfoy still silent? How hasn't he said anything yet? 

“That’s not fair, Harry,” he whispers, but in the silent room, the words carry. Mina almost wishes he hadn't spoke after all. Yes, public proposals suck, and they take away choices and make things awkward, and Mina hates them, but she didn't expect Malfoy to start on that right now. Honestly, she expected he would agree and confess his love and their squabble would be forgotten. There would be tears, too, in Mina's mind, because tears of happiness are underrated, and this is Mina's mind, her happy ending, and so, if she says there will be tears, there will be tears. 

“I already proposed, it’s not fair that you get to ask again and get all the recognition.” Malfoy already proposed? When? And how didn’t Jaime tell her? 

Oh! The ominous question. Malfoy must have proposed, and somehow that question didn't end with them planning their honeymoon. They must have fought instead, and _that_ would explain how hostile they were to each other, and why Malfoy brought Parkinson as his +1. But what did they fight about? Why is Potter here proposing when, presumably, he said no before? 

“Yeah, and then you ran away and gave me no time to answer when I took a moment to process what you were asking. But I processed it now, Draco, and nothing would make me happier than marrying you.” Nothing carries a voice quite as well as sincerity, and Potter’s voice rings loud and clear in the room. 

There are two things everyone is acutely aware of right now. 

One, Potter deserves the most happiness anyone can get in this world, and apparently, for him, that means marrying Malfoy. 

Two, Malfoy still hasn’t answered. 

Then Malfoy is falling to his knees, too, kissing Potter and clinging to him and, yes, possibly even crying, and Potter is somehow lifting them both back up and twirling Malfoy through the air, and they are laughing, and it’s lovely and heartwarming and will make a brilliant piece Mina will enjoy writing, but her thoughts are firmly set on Jaime. This is what she wants with Jaime, the love and intoxicating happiness, and she has no intention of messing it up quite as badly as these two. 

Wishing them all the best, Mina makes her way to the closest Floo. She has her own question to ask, and a holiday to plan. She does allow herself one look back, at Potter and Malfoy standing in each other’s arms, grinning like crazy, and she takes one moment to thank them. Harry Potter, truly the hero the world needs.

  



End file.
